


Last-Minute Complications (no homo-ified)

by GrievousCollection



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Disguise, M/M, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, No Homo, Repressed Feelings, borderline sexual harassment, facial transformation, overuse of "bro" language, uncomfortable date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27002137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrievousCollection/pseuds/GrievousCollection
Summary: Anakin doesn’t want to go to the opera with the Chancellor. Fortunately, Obi-Wan is willing to do anything to get him out of this situation, even go disguised as him. … No homo though.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 17
Kudos: 51





	Last-Minute Complications (no homo-ified)

**Author's Note:**

> Was challenged on Discord to “take your most shippy blatantly romantic Obikin fic and no homo-fy it.”

Anakin woke up to his commlink beeping. Squinting against the sunlight flooding his quarters, he answered.

“Ah, Anakin. It is so good to hear from you,” came a familiar grandfatherly voice. “While you were driving the Separatist forces from Ryloth - a most brilliant effort, by the way - I happened to acquire two tickets to an upcoming opera performance. It would be a most devastating shame to let these tickets go to waste. What do you say we schedule another of our ‘errands’ tomorrow night?”

“Uh-”

“It’s scheduled, then. Tomorrow night at 10 PM. I do hope there are no last-minute complications.” The comm went silent.

\---

Anakin sat on the sofa in Obi-Wan’s quarters, staring at the datapad in front of him without processing anything on the screen. His former Master’s brotherly presence was usually enough to get him in the headspace to read over Ahsoka’s reports, but today, his head was buzzing, still trying to process Palpatine’s call from earlier.

He should feel flattered, he supposed, that the Chancellor still made time for him in the middle of a war. Still, something about his attention felt a little bit… He read the same line three times before giving up and setting the datapad aside on the caf table.

Obi-Wan settled down beside Anakin on the sofa, nearly making him jump as he set down his cup of tea. “Is something the matter?” he asked gently. “You seem stressed, dude.”

“It’s… well…” Anakin took a deep breath. “The Chancellor has invited me to the opera. Tomorrow night.”

Obi-Wan gave him a long look. “Do you want to go?” he asked eventually.

“I should,” Anakin said. “I mean, you know I love going to shows and stuff but, I don’t know, we just got back from Ryloth and I haven’t gotten to train with Ahsoka since we left… I shouldn’t go.”

“I didn’t ask if you should, bro,” said Obi-Wan. “I asked if you wanted to.”

Anakin sighed. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have even answered my comm. I’d just woken up when he called… and already he scheduled an ‘errand’ for us. 10 PM tomorrow.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re right,” he said. “You shouldn’t go. I’ll go, disguised as you.”

Anakin considered the idea of Obi-Wan pulling the hood of one of his darker cloaks over his head in an attempt to convince Palpatine that he was, in fact, Anakin. Would it work? What would Palpatine do if he wasn’t convinced of the disguise? Or… what would he do, what would he say if he  _ was _ convinced? He tried not to think about it for too long.

“I- I don’t know…” he said. “What if…” He tried to think of what Palpatine might do that could be misconstrued if no disclaimer was given. “What if he wants to hold hands?”

Obi-Wan gazed unblinkingly into his eyes, the image of a protective older brother. “I’m prepared to make that sacrifice.”

Anakin averted his gaze. “What if he wants a kiss?” He hoped he sounded nonchalant.

“I’m prepared to make that sacrifice.”

Anakin squirmed, fiddling with the sleeves of his robes. Worse thoughts occurred to him. “What if he wants to…?”

“You don’t want to know how far I’ll go,” Obi-Wan said, earnest and sincere in a completely brotherly way. So complete was his sincerity that the “no homo” part went entirely unsaid.

There was no talking Obi-Wan out of this, was there?

\---

“So, how does this work exactly?” Anakin asked.

The person who answered him had Obi-Wan’s stature and Force signature, but was wearing Anakin’s clothes and an uncanny re-structuring of his face, right down to the scar bisecting his right eyebrow. “Well, you talk into the device, and I… swallow it.” He held a small orb in front of Anakin and pressed a button.

Okay. Not the strangest proposal. “What am I supposed to say?” he asked as the device lit up, presumably registering the sound of Anakin’s voice.

Obi-Wan pressed a button. “That will suffice,” he said, cupping the orb in his gloved palm. Small legs emerged from the orb, giving it the appearance of a large spider as it crawled up Obi-Wan’s arm and over his smoothly shaved chin. Anakin winced and turned away as Obi-Wan’s mouth opened, hearing him shudder audibly as he swallowed.

“That was… mildly unpleasant,” he heard his own voice say as he turned back to face Obi-Wan. “I suppose I will have to get used to this for now.”

“This is so weird,” Anakin echoed back. “Master, you’re… you’re like yourself and me mixed together.” He glanced around. “I - I mean that in a completely normal way, of course.”

“Only too bad you aren’t disguising yourself as me, bro,” Obi-Wan said. To an outside observer, the smirk on his face would be no different from the one Anakin usually gave. “Then I would have to call you ‘Master.’ How weird would that be?”

Anakin flushed, though he had no reason to. It was a completely normal word spoken in a completely normal way with no horny undertones whatsoever.

\---

Anakin felt like a Padawan again, sitting as still as he could while Obi-Wan ran his fingers through his hair. He almost wished Obi-Wan would drop a “no homo” once in a while, the attention he was giving Anakin’s hair felt rather tender, but there was nothing truly gay about brushing your bro’s hair. The only difference was that rather than cutting his hair, Obi-Wan was studying it while cutting a wig in a matching style.

Well. That and the fact that Obi-Wan was speaking in Anakin’s voice through Anakin’s face while wearing Anakin’s robes. He had taken off the glove for the time being, but as soon as the wig replica of Anakin’s hair was in place, he would put it back on to cover his right hand.

And then they would match. Aside from the five centimeters or so between their heights, which Obi-Wan was partially compensating for with inserts in the boots he was borrowing, they would be perfectly identical. Only on the outside, though. Anakin breathed a sigh of relief internally that the transformation didn’t change other aspects of Obi-Wan’s body to match his, because even if it would still technically be his own body, Obi-Wan could look at and touch places that he would definitely have to say “no homo” under ordinary circumstances.

“I’m almost finished,” Obi-Wan said in Anakin’s voice. “Just sit tight a little longer, bro.”

Anakin bit his lip. Something about that phrasing… “You probably shouldn’t call the Chancellor that,” he said by way of a joke.

Obi-Wan’s hand stilled. “Is there anything I  _ should _ call him?”

“I mean, ‘sir’ or ‘Chancellor,’ I don’t really call him anything else…” Anakin’s mouth went dry. What else would he call the Chancellor in his presence? It wasn’t like the man was on first name terms with him.

“I should hope not,” Obi-Wan muttered, snipping away at the wig and stepping back to admire his work. “There, all finished. Once I put on this wig, I will be your exact copy.”

“Except for the hand,” Anakin reminded him. And everything under the robes, which would have to be washed again once Obi-Wan was done using them lest they make indirect contact of an intimate nature. He stood to help Obi-Wan get the wig settled and smoothed out his robes ever so slightly, touching him as little as possible.

“Very well, your exact copy minus one interaction with Count Dooku. Once the glove is on,  _ then _ I will be your exact copy.”

Anakin laughed. Even disguised as him, Obi-Wan would always be Obi-Wan. “We’ll see about that, Master.”

\---

Obi-Wan checked his wig one last time in the fresher mirror, noting with satisfaction how even to his own well-trained eyes, he passed for Anakin.  _ We’ll see, indeed, _ he thought to himself, walking along that same carpeted hallway to the Chancellor’s office and knocking on the door.

The door opened, revealing Chancellor Palpatine in his usual red robe with the puffy sleeves. His wide smile faltered for a moment before spreading across his face once again, still not reaching his eyes. “Anakin, my  _ dear _ boy _. _ I am so glad you could make it.” He took Obi-Wan’s hand in both of his and lifted it to his mouth, pressing a kiss against the knuckles without saying “no homo.”

His  _ gloved _ hand. Which Anakin kept gloved to avoid the stares, not liking the attention his prosthetic always got. His gloved hand that was undoubtedly softer than the cool durasteel, warmer even through the leather glove keeping his true identity a secret.

_ Play it cool, _ Obi-Wan reminded himself. “I came as quickly as I could. Sir.” Sir or Chancellor. That was what Anakin called him. Obi-Wan glanced at his feet, hoping his embarrassment came across in a way that looked like Anakin’s, in a way that he never imagined in another context without tacking on a “no homo.”

“I trust that your friend Master Kenobi does not object to you accompanying me?” Palpatine raised his eyebrows as if telling a private joke. After a moment, he shook his head. “It shouldn’t matter,” he said. “You are no longer his Padawan. He cannot dictate where you go and who with.” He stepped out of his office. “But enough chitchat. We have a performance to attend.”

As they walked, Palpatine casually placed a hand on the small of Obi-Wan’s back, again without disclaimer.

\---

Obi-Wan had been around many politicians. As a negotiator, he had resolved countless disputes throughout the galaxy, which meant countless hours spent with politicians of all sorts. And yet, uncomfortable as those interactions had sometimes been, this was without a doubt the most uncomfortable Obi-Wan had ever been in a politician’s presence.

It wasn’t any individual thing either. The things that made him uncomfortable were subtle - the hand on the small of his back as they walked together, the brush of Palpatine’s hand against his wrist as they sat down in the opera house box, the way he sometimes brushed a lock of false hair out of Obi-Wan’s face.

Now, Obi-Wan had never exactly been a fan of Chancellor Palpatine, never knowing him to love anything other than power, but the way he was behaving tonight made Obi-Wan call that into question. In addition to power, it seemed the Chancellor loved being around Anakin - taking him places, touching him in ways that made Obi-Wan shudder uncomfortably. Ways that he didn’t like to be touched, ways he knew Anakin didn’t like to be touched without a “no homo.”

Unless… he did? Obi-Wan had long assumed Anakin to be straight as a ruler, but Anakin had often spoken of the Chancellor with fondness, more so than Obi-Wan had ever heard about himself, Anakin’s best bro. If this was how Palpatine behaved around the young man, and that was how Anakin spoke of him, perhaps they had a closer and less heterosexual relationship than Obi-Wan had imagined.

Lampdisks came on at the end of the performance, gradually brightening the house to illuminate the audience’s way out the door. Palpatine gripped Obi-Wan’s arm (his gloved right arm, again) and leaned against him as he pulled himself up. “Thank you, Anakin,” he breathed, gripping rather unnecessarily at Obi-Wan’s shoulder in a way that tugged at his wig.

He was glad he’d had the foresight to use wig glue.

_ You can let go of me now, _ Obi-Wan thought but didn’t say, and mercifully enough, Palpatine let go of him.

“I should be going,” Obi-Wan said quietly. The sooner he left, the better. “It was a lot of fun-”

“My boy, it is rather late,” Palpatine interrupted, “and the air lanes are far from ideal. Shall I have my security escort you to the Temple? There will only be a brief detour to my apartment.”

His apartment. A thousand possibilities flashed through Obi-Wan’s mind, each worse than the last. “I can handle myself,” he said in his best approximation of the cocky voice Anakin used during battle. “I’m a Jedi, remember?”

“Of course, my boy,” Palpatine muttered absently. “The greatest Jedi alive.”

Obi-Wan turned to leave, rolling his eyes as soon as he was far enough away. If he truly thought Anakin the greatest Jedi alive, why had Palpatine insinuated he couldn’t return to the Temple on his own? Why was he always touching Anakin’s right arm? And why… why was “my boy” his endearment of choice?

Obi-Wan’s wig itched. He ignored it for the time being as he took to the air lanes, swearing it would be the first part of this disguise he would remove when he returned to the Temple.

_ Anakin… _

He hadn’t wanted to go, Obi-Wan reminded himself. He remembered with a grimace what Anakin had asked when Obi-Wan had suggested going in his stead. He had assumed Anakin was joking when he’d asked about holding hands and kissing, but… Palpatine had kissed his hand, walked with an arm around his lower back, held on to him for just a second too long after getting up. Was that the kind of attention Palpatine gave the real Anakin?

If it was, he certainly didn’t blame him for reading romantic intent into the gestures, nor for his apparent discomfort. He would be uncomfortable as well. He  _ was _ uncomfortable. Anakin deserved to be treated better. He deserved for someone to ask him before making plans and respect his busy schedule. He deserved not to be touched in ways that made him uncomfortable. And most importantly, he deserved to be able to refuse anything without risking his career.

Obi-Wan touched down at the Jedi Temple, finally allowing himself to scratch at his scalp. He felt Anakin’s presence nearby as soon as he got out of the speeder.

\---

Anakin blinked in confusion for a moment as what appeared to be his doppelganger got out of the speeder, before remembering how he had dodged an evening with Palpatine. “Obi-Wan!” he called, crossing the landing platform to greet his friend. “You’re back!”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer, scratching his head in apparent frustration. His Force signature radiated feelings of discomfort that had little to do with an itchy wig. “Is everything okay?” Anakin asked him. “Did something happen?”

“No wonder you didn’t want to go,” Obi-Wan finally responded, shuddering audibly as they began to walk toward the Temple doors. “It was horrible. If I had known this was how he treated you…”

Something had happened. Clearly, Palpatine had done something to Obi-Wan, something unwelcome. “What did he do to you?” Anakin asked, an edge of protectiveness creeping into his voice.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Nothing major, I suppose, if that’s any consolation.”

That still didn’t answer the question. “What did he do?”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “Well, to start off, he kissed my hand when I met him in his office.  _ This _ hand.” He held up his gloved right hand for emphasis. “Without saying no homo. And when we walked together, he put his arm around my waist, again without saying no homo.”

Anakin blinked, trying to process the information. “What do you mean? Could you show me what he did?” He glanced around. “I mean, no homo, of course. Just show me what he did and I know you don’t mean anything weird by it.”

“It was like this.” Obi-Wan reached behind Anakin and placed a hand on the small of his back. Anakin swallowed hard, leaning away from the touch as they walked before Obi-Wan retracted his hand to go on talking. “And he was always touching me in these small ways, here-” he ghosted a finger on Anakin’s wrist- “and here.” He brushed a lock of hair out of Anakin’s face.

“He did that to you?” Anakin asked. “Without saying no homo?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “And then at the end of the performance, after hanging rather unnecessarily on my shoulder to stand up, he offered to have his security bring me back to the Temple, after only a brief detour to his apartment.”

A brief detour to his-

Although it was a chilly night, Anakin felt the temperature rising. “How  _ dare _ he?” Anakin hissed. “That is all kinds of sus. If he weren’t the Chancellor, I would…” His mechanical hand clenched into a fist.

A faint groan escaped Obi-Wan’s mouth. “Then you can imagine how I feel knowing how close he has been to you for all these years.”

Anakin’s eyes widened. “You… you’re right. I never even thought about...” His brows furrowed. “I’ve been so fixated on making sure we were no homo, I never gave a second thought to the Chancellor. He’s been acting sus as hell this whole time!”

“You deserve better than this,” Obi-Wan said. “You deserve for someone to ask you before touching you like that and to stop if you say no. And for that person to not feel entitled to your time to the point of pulling rank on those who might limit your interactions. Or-” he grimaced, likely remembering something uncomfortable- “dictating where you go and who with.”

It sounded like he’d put a lot of thought into it. “N… no homo, though, right?” Anakin asked.

“I didn’t mean to imply…” Was that what a blush normally looked like on Anakin’s face? “I mean, there doesn’t have to be - you wouldn’t have to be…  _ involved _ with someone for those standards to apply.”

“I know that,” Anakin said. “I just wanted to make sure we were still, you know. No homo.”

Obi-Wan glanced to the side. “My concern for your safety is independent of any ‘homo’ness.” He turned to face Anakin. “But to answer your question… maybe a little homo. Only a little, and only if you want us to be. I’m not going to be all sus about it like Palpatine.”

Anakin’s mouth went dry. What did Obi-Wan mean, “maybe a little homo?” How was he meant to respond?

“Bro,” he eventually said, “why you gotta make it weird?”

“Just kidding,” Obi-Wan said quickly.

_ Unless…? _

**Author's Note:**

> They have repressed feelings for each other now and I hate it


End file.
